(no subject)
Woke up last night at about four, as usual, to a funny noise that I actually took a few seconds to recognise as rain. The morning was dull and wet, and warm(ish), just like spring should be, and by the time I'd persuaded myself out to the conference it was almost sunny and the air was like milk. The conference wasn't anything like as dull as I'd feared, and featured a talk on placements at the Horniman Museum, where I want to go this summer, which was educational at least. I also managed to extricate myself from the pub at a reasonable hour without getting stocious drunk or trying to hit on the anti-Snape (who has problems of his own) and got home by nine, which is definitely an improvement.
The g-d has gone back to Bristol for mother's day, leaving me with a godmother's present - a box of assorted goodies from Lush, including a small bottle of Sonic Death Monkey shower gel and some coming up roses butterbath. I was quite choked up, and find I rather miss her. I even miss the boyfriend.
Meanwhile, in pursuit of my attempt to reconstruct the record collection I had in 1980, the post has delivered Shoukichi Kina's Peppermint Teahouse, a CD which was my introduction to the wonderful twangly, squeaky world of Okinawan music, and which contains Jing, Jing the single most irritating song in the world.
The g-d has gone back to Bristol for mother's day, leaving me with a godmother's present - a box of assorted goodies from Lush, including a small bottle of Sonic Death Monkey shower gel and some coming up roses butterbath. I was quite choked up, and find I rather miss her. I even miss the boyfriend.
Meanwhile, in pursuit of my attempt to reconstruct the record collection I had in 1980, the post has delivered Shoukichi Kina's Peppermint Teahouse, a CD which was my introduction to the wonderful twangly, squeaky world of Okinawan music, and which contains Jing, Jing the single most irritating song in the world.